[] Run into this mysterious Easterner whom the Despot hired, see what is up with her.
[] Meet with your fellow sorcerers. Learn about the local supernatural scene in a relatively controlled way.
[] Make some time to go to the Immaculate Temple. Surely that will help you.
[] Find moderate housing, amongst the higher-ranked sort of craftsmen, appropriate to how Gem views sorcerers.
In the end, you decide not to be too showy with your abode in either direction. You find a semi-sunken apartment to let, something of reasonable size and cleanliness by Gem's standards. This complex has four stories, two above ground, one below ground, plus yours that's mostly sunken into the ground, but the only door out opens to stairs leading up to the street. The partially-sunken-into-mines thing makes getting around a curious pain at times.
This neighborhood is one where you attract a little attention, but not an abnormal amount, which is part of why you chose it.
Any supernatural-touched human with a jade weapon is going to attract attention anywhere in the world outside of maybe the Realm's Imperial City or Nexus, but here the level is normal curiosity about a novel new neighbor, not suspicion.
It's still a notable step down for you in the world, really. Instead of having a manor with servants and guards, you have a couple of rooms, an upstairs neighbor who by the sound of things practices his belly-flops at random eight hours of the day, and you have to handle things like making food and keeping the place tidy all by yourself, or else
hire someone to do that. It's not worse than what you were trained to endure for field deployments or similar military matters, but those had a purpose in not dragging unnecessary luxuries along for the field. This? This is supposed to be civilized.
You don't like roughing it.
Your first full day in the Despot's service starts relatively smoothly. You show up where you're expected to, and a functionary takes you to the cistern that needs filling today. The route is entirely sub-surface, through rock tunnels studded with glowstones, so you can't see the Shrike even if it's around. Through luck of the draw, it isn't Tehli that's leading, so that conversation with her doesn't go anywhere.
You aren't alone, either. Today's bureaucrat has not only the usual 'two armed guards' along with him, but another person. This one has blue hair, blue eyes, an androgynous look to both face and clothing, and dark cast under their eyes. They give you a sleepy smile as you all walk together. "Hey. I'm Welcome Wellspring, Water Aspect. Dub-dubs for short. Don't recognize you."
"Amphora. I just got into town yesterday."
"Well, nice to meet you. Air Aspect, right? You have a bit of an icy look to you." You make a non-committal gesture that Dub-dubs apparently accepts as confirmation. "Good choice to join up. It's an easy gig. Best rates for sorcery for more than a hundred miles, and the Despot doesn't want to let us get poached or hurt."
"Been working here long, then?"
"Forty years, give or take." Like most Exalts, Dub-dubs could be twenty or ninety without you seeing much sign of aging. The Dragons' blessing is typically good at keeping its Chosen in their prime.
"Must be a good career then. I haven't even been a sorcerer that long." You don't feel any need to tell them, or anyone else, that you've been a sorcerer for less than a week, and still haven't experimented with much of anything beyond your control spell. Or that you're only in your mid-twenties to begin with.
Dub-dubs continues the conversation as you go, providing you a distraction as you slowly climb through the tunnels, which rise at a gentle slope without coming to the surface ever. It's mainly a slow chatter about a lot of the local supernatural gossip. This was something you would have been looking for if it hadn't dropped into your lap, so you let them. It's focused more on
gossip than you care about, since the fact that Jyovira, local god of struggle and bloodshed, is sleeping with a specific gladiator is more detail than you need, but it still helps.
The conversation, with your prompting to keep it rolling, continues on through the actual work part of the day, with a little pause here and there for actually casting sorcery.
The cistern you're filling must be the one that the Shrike attack drained. It's a vast pool, so large that it's hard to see the far side in the minimal lighting. It's low on water at the moment, though, and the edges of the pool have a bit of detritus like you'd expect to see at a construction site. It's understandable: even if a good chunk of the mountain came down, the water storage and transport (not to mention the necessary effort to protect that water) is probably easier to patch and keep using than to wholesale replace.
You call forth several torrents, where Dub-dubs calls forth a larger number of more sedate flows, in both cases leading to water flowing down to join the rebuilding reservoir. It doesn't raise the level appreciably to your eyes.
Dub-dubs' casting seems significantly less pleasant to use than yours.
You just let the underlying flames of the world open a path for water. It's a straightforward and intuitive effort of will, almost as easy now as walking on your hands or moving quietly on drumsand. Dub-dubs, on the other hand, ends up clutching their head and muttering something that sounds rather like a whimpering cry. They recover after they do, and no one else seems to react as if this is odd, so it's probably normal for them.
There's a bit of a cadence to the work. You don't have to rush: a day's sorcery for straightforward spells like this is only an hour or so of work, and can be less if you hurry. It's easier and more comfortable to alternate chatting and sorcery.
Dub-dubs' stories, with your gentle prompting, gradually let you piece together the feel of things. You already had an understanding of Gem's political landscape. It's basically a syndicate like the most organized criminal enterprises elsewhere in the world, just openly. The Despot and Gem's other noble houses all conspire to get all the money they can, and everyone else works to grab onto all the money
they can without that 'house edge', and everyone from the street beggar to the Despot has to look over their shoulders a lot because profit is more important than civic safety.
This lets you layer more nuance on top of that, to understand how the supernatural functions here. Worship of Anathema, demons, or deathlords are all forbidden. Very little else is banned, but there's a lot of self-selection that keep it from being a total free-for-all. The most obvious Essence-users are the mercenaries. Even a handful of Dragon-Blooded sell their services here, as well as the full assortment of other types. Anathema like Lunars are the only exception, which is simply because Gem needs the Lap's food surplus to exist, and the Realm won't sell to people who openly deal with Lunars. Technically, nearly every security and enforcement force in Gem is from these mercenary companies.
Related to the mercenaries, as people often dabble in both to advertise their prowess, are the gladiatorial games. Gem has five increasingly elite circuits for gladiators, culminating in the Volcano Circuit that no unenlightened mortal can meaningfully compete in, regardless of skill. All the productions are run by a single noble house, Circla, which has a monopoly on it.
There's also those like Dub-dubs here: workers of one sort or another. Dub-dubs mentions offhandedly that beyond their water sorcery, they do a certain reasonable business working various defensive sorceries to keep people's vaults safe. You also get a few other names and descriptions of your new peers, so that when you run into any of them like you did with Dub-dubs, you can show a certain friendly awareness of who they are.
The last group are the gods and their cults. Shrines to gods like Plentimon and Jyovira, local spirits, and other important figures, whether through the spirit directly or priests, are a source of blessings and sundry effects. These local deities have never been tamed by Immaculate monks, but somehow the locals have still struck a balance with them, keeping them as hopeful figures, yet not letting them take over and oppress people.
You can pretty much ignore the last group, it seems like. Spirits like that live too long to act abruptly, so there are unlikely to be any connections to the Waif and her people unless something specific changes. That's not impossible, but it is unlikely to be the
first sign of their actions.
The last notable discovery of the working day comes when Dub-dubs asks where you're staying, and they break into a grin as you tell them. "Oh, we're practically neighbors! I'm two tunnels east of you. It's a pretty good neighborhood. The apartment owners employ people to shoo the transients out."
You express appropriate surprise back, and somehow this all turns into Dub-dubs taking you out to a Volcano circuit match. They insist, given your clear interest in gladiators, and you don't actually argue against it too much, so once you've cast all your day's sorcery, that's where you head next.
The match is held in an indoors arena. You and Dub-dubs end up further back, which isn't surprising due to coming at the last minute. People who wanted good seats either paid more, came earlier, or both. Most of the few hundred seats crammed into the building are taken, and as you're coming to realize is ever-present in Gem there's vendors selling concessions or trinkets that circle through the seats. Dub-dubs continues the friendly chatter with you as you wait for the match. Apparently, they don't normally come to these sorts of matches, except for special occasions. They don't explicitly frame it this way, but it seems that meeting you must qualify.
"Never been interested in competing, then?" You ask at one point in the talk, mostly a friendly joke that still is a probing question, too. After all, Dub-dubs is a Dragon-Blood. All Dragon-Bloods are called by the Dragons to be the heroes Creation needs.
"Nah. Even outside the deathmatches that's usually limited to
slave gladiators, it's too easy to get yourself seriously hurt in these things. I'm more a lover than a fighter, sort of person. And I've had enough excitement in my life already." You can't help but notice a subtle shifting of Dub-dubs' hands, which now clutch a little woven charm meant to help catch bad dreams.
There's no more chance to chat after that, as an announcer with a powerful bellow to her voice stands in the center of the arena and begins hyping the match up, introducing the fighters and giving them each a chance to show off some of their tricks for the audience. It's an understandable way to lengthen the show and give people a chance to try to weigh each of the fighters, allowing last-minute bets to be placed.
It seems both of these fighters are relatively new to Gem's fighting circuit, but it's not hard to see why they were put into Volcano immediately. The first one introduced, Syzygy, works for House Arbani and boasts one of their firewands, a flame-discharge weapon with significant barrel length. He shows off his skills with a display of precision target shooting, incinerating a series of targets while performing acrobatics in a butler outfit modified just enough to allow him to move unimpeded. It's a pretty good show, you have to admit.
The second one introduced is Crowson. You don't see where he comes from; the crowd is in the way, and you only see once he's in the central field. He is a tall man with a handsome cast to his face that is somehow completely ruined the moment he smiles. He is introduced as a ghostblood, but the moment he throws off the shapeless cloak he's shrouded with, you instantly straighten up in your seat. Dub-dubs looks over at you, quizzically, but you smile and force yourself to sit more calmly.
Deathknight is foremost in your mind, something you are somehow instantly assured of, even though you've never met one that isn't you. His presence is far more potent than any mere child of a ghost, and from his shoulderblades extend four tentacles, dark red in color, the tips of each wrapped around the handle of a different beat-up old meat cleaver. They mostly hang to the ground, making a scraping noise as he walks around, but at his silent command they jerk to life, and he savages a trio of target dummies with a wild flurry of hacking even though he still has his arms crossed.
The introduction and last bets are concluded, and the fight starts. It's an odd match, to your eyes. Both of the fighters aren't fully trying to
win as much as they're trying to win while playing to the crowd. Syzygy proves adept at fighting with his flame wand as a whole weapon, parrying with the barrel and hammering with the stock as well as filling the air with fire, its heat so intense that the front rows pull back, exclaiming excitedly, whenever he sets it off in their direction.
Crowson, on the other hand, fights exactly as you'd expect, stalking lightly around, still without uncrossing his arms, and his cleaver-tentacles jerk to life for slashes whenever the chance arises, leading to a chase as Crowson gradually reveals just how far his weapons can reach, which is significantly further than you would have expected. He's adept at moving quickly without looking like he's hurrying.
For a few minutes, the fight goes on like this, both of them searching for an opening and neither quite committing too hard. Eventually, though, Crowson maneuvers Syzygy into one of the corners, and Syzygy has to contend with having no room to dodge or back up, with two cleavers coming from each side at the same time.
There's a sudden roar of approval from the crowd as the cleavers just about hit... and Syzygy disappears entirely, instantly reappearing on one knee in a perfect firing pose partway across the arena. The largest flameblast yet roars forth, but Crowson shows a new trick, levering himself off the ground entirely, his blood-red tentacles seemingly immune to the searing heat.
Suspended in the air on his back, Crowson rolls over, two of his tentacles shifting from lifting him to swinging in a huge arc. Syzygy is thrown back as the two impact him, throwing him back even more than they chop. He's out of the ring, disqualified. The crowd goes even more nuts.
Crowson doesn't hang around. As quickly as he appeared, he's gone, not staying around to interact with fans, and coincidentally putting him beyond your reach again. Dub-dubs also doesn't stick around; citing needing to go check up on some workings for their other job, but it's a friendly leave-taking. You listen to the crowd around you as the arena empties out. From how people are discussing it, these two were definitely two of the circuit's rising stars and best fighters.
That turned out to be a surprisingly profitable outing. Through Dub-dubs, you've managed to get a feel for the local water-conjurers, even if you haven't met them all yet, and if Dub-dubs accepts you, likely the others will, too. You're already 'one of the gang'. You've got a feel for how personal might is seen and distributed in Gem, and you've seen two powerful gladiators, including finding your first deathknight in the city. While both of them were a little strange, only Crowson was a deathknight, and he's a public enough figure for you to start to track him without needing to do any hasty, thoughtless moves to confront him.
You're still thinking about that when you find yourself in front of the Immaculate Temple again. Your idle steps brought you here on automatic as you thought. Impulsively, you go in. It's almost instinct. The First Diligent Practice rings in your mind as you do. "
Hear a recital of an Immaculate Text at least once a month, in the company of at least 17 other followers of the Philosophy." Maybe you were never the most devout, but it was still something that always was a background part of your life, regardless, and... it has been a while since you've been to a Temple, by now.
Inside, there's only one person, in a monk's outfit and with a monk's shaved-bald head. She is cleaning as you enter, but she sets the broom aside to give you a bow in greeting. You return the gesture. "Welcome, my child," she says. "What brings you in?"
You're not totally sure how to answer that. It just sort of happened. But you know how to act in a Temple after so many years of going there from childhood on. "Seeking the Dragons' blessing and guidance," you say.
"Of course." The monk gestures to a pew, which you sit in. She crouches on the one ahead of it, facing backwards over its back. "Are you with the Immaculate Philosophy, Immaculate Religion, or Pure Way?"
That one does floor you. You don't have a ready answer. It takes several seconds of mental flailing for you to come up with an answer to something that you interpret as "are you with the Realm's truth, Lookshy's odd heresies, or Prasad's absurdities?" She waits patiently for you. You think you mostly keep the thoughts off your face, but the pause alone is enough that she basically has to be aware of what your thought process is. "Immaculate Philosophy," you tell her. "Are all three really practiced in the same place here?"
She gives you a smile. "In a land where most of the people still subscribe to the Hundred Gods Heresy or various ancestor cults? Of course we do. What unites us is more than what separates us. But I do conduct separate services. I'm Understanding Auris, and this is my temple." You introduce yourself in turn, then, to your surprise, she stands and gestures for you to follow. "You, my friend, need something. That's why you came here today."
"I do?" You obediently trail along, bemused as much as anything.
"You need clarity. And there's no better way to achieve clarity than a spar." In front of the pews is an open space, suitable for a little light bout. "We are Immaculates. We respect the martial arts."
You line up at one of the demarcated starting points and Auris moves to the other. "Unless I miss my guess, you're not blessed by the Dragons," you point out. It's certainly not impossible for a Dragon-Blood to look merely human, but it's rare for there to be no signs.
"You are correct," Understanding Auris agrees, echoing your starting bow and moving smoothly into a defensive stance from there, one you don't recognize. "But I am a god's child. It's what pushed me to the faith." You may not know the details there, but that tells you a lot. Some god wasn't a good parent, showing why it is important to follow the Immaculate separation of mortal and divine, with Dragon-Bloods bridging the gap. "I may not be the greatest warrior, but don't count me lightly."
Auris gestures for you to come at her. You do, a standard series of exchanges that produce no telling result, but let you each take the measure of each other. She's letting you dictate the pace, and her defensive style is sort of strange, accepting blows into her cupped palm and her absorbing most, but not all, of your punches' power. It even extends to kicks: she blocks your kicks with her shin, and absorbs the force by that leg being thrown back, shifting her overall balance without hurting her.
This is just a friendly spar, so you don't draw Blizzard's Scourge, unleash Air Dragon Style to its full extent, or otherwise try to overwhelm her.
"What brings you to Gem?" Understanding Auris asks, as she catches one of your punches. The last word comes out in a sharp exhalation, as your not-quite-stopped punch pushes her own hand against her belly.
"I was looking for work."
"That's not it." For the first time, the monk takes an offensive move, trying to catch your right arm in the crook of her elbow. "I can tell already. You're too driven just to be here for coin."
"You're right." You rip your hand free with simple, raw strength, unbalancing both of you about as much, so neither gains an advantage. You push her back with a series of low kicks, and she circles around as she gives ground, to avoid being pinned against a wall. "I'm also chasing someone."
"Why?" She shifts her approach suddenly, ducking past you under your reach.
"Because I have been wronged." You can't completely resist a sliver of annoyance at her repeated badgering. You turn that into a more forceful attack, aiming at her eye.
She has to catch your fist with both hands and still rocks back under the impact. "And?" She throws your hand to one side and launches her own attack, an open-palm thrust at your heart. "We have all been dealt a rough hand at some point."
You deflect it with your other forearm and spin, a swift motion fed by the force you're redirecting, fingers stiffening like a spearpoint to hit her in the shoulder, digging into nerve clusters. "This is different." The strength you put into that hit puts the lie to that.
Yet, somehow, the blow strikes her before it builds up all the force it should, as Understanding Auris steps into the blow, accepting it. "Are you really chasing someone, or just trying to run?"
"What?"
"You have come a long way, traveler, but you're still bound to your roots." It's true: you left the Realm, left House Peleps, left the satrapy system... and went straight back to the Immaculate Temple. Which puts you in front of an Immaculate monk as she lays a gentle fist to your arm, somehow causing a stinging stunning in what shouldn't have been a serious hit to begin with. "What can't you outrun?"
Your hands blur faster as the very wind speeds your blows. "I don't want to break something--to break some
one--I care about again!"
"So?"
"So instead I'll break someone who deserves it!" A third and a fourth and a fifth strike come out of your unfolding combination. One of them slips through her guard completely, hitting her in the mouth and knocking her down.
Suddenly, you stop.
Understanding Auris wipes away blood from a split lip and stands back up. She bows to you. You echo it. "What happened there?" you ask, a little uncertain. You hadn't meant to say anything in particular, and certainly not as much as you did. Her strange style, its absorbent defense that practically begs you to pour out your thoughts as you try to overcome it... you've never quite seen the like before.
"That is the Art of Victorious Concession, a martial art of compassion. Naturally, it lets you draw out things you need to share." The lip is already looking better. Her divine blood clearly includes impressive healing. "The Five Glorious Dragon Styles are not the only strength of Immaculates." She searches your eyes. "Did you find what you needed to, my son?"
You consider, bringing your breathing down to its normal level. "I... did." The truth of the matter is that Understanding Auris is right: you are bound to who you are, and to who you were. You may not have been pious enough to immediately turn yourself over to the Immaculate Order to be purified as Anathema, but you're not going to risk destroying the good Immaculates leave behind, either.
She nods. "Then I am glad to be of service. May the Dragons guide you back soon." The godblood hides her hands in her voluminous sleeves. "Immaculate Order messages are every Venusday, starting an hour before sunset."
You nod back. "I'll see when I can make it." You drop a high-denomination coin in the box for giving as you leave. Immaculate Temples, even outside Realm territory, teach children for free. Reading, writing, math, history, good moral lessons, physical education, and self-defense. That's worth something.
Thoughts keep percolating through your head as you go out into the sunken tunnel-street, past the raksha noble's parlor. She might not sleep; you can't know.
Perhaps... perhaps you should look up more Pure Way doctrine. It's said that the Prasadi sometimes live alongside Anathema like you. Perhaps there's something there you could take some solace in, some way to reconcile your current nature and something at least like your upbringing.
On the other hand, you've never actually been that dedicated to religion, and you
are busy.
* * *
You top off your Essence on your way back to your apartment. You hide Blizzard's Scourge through the simple expedient of tucking it under your tunic. It's more than a little awkward to hide two feet of curved, bladed jade, but flaunting it makes it less likely that you'll be accosted. Smart people know what it means to have an attuned magical weapon.
This pays off. A gang of three try to stab you in a dim side tunnel using rusty knives, which might also be poisoned. You don't check. Their corpses you leave behind. This is Gem; someone will find the bodies and try to turn a profit off it somehow.
* * *
The next day starts much the same. Meet a functionary for the Despot, go and cast your sorcery. This one isn't as long a walk: it's actually in the city and at a much smaller pool, besides. Likely this is somewhere that is more typically filled and emptied on a regular basis. You were the only sorcerer needed to take it from empty to brimming. As you leave, there's a line already forming of both the well-to-do and slaves of the even better off, queueing to purchase fresh, cool water.
And this is the wet and cold season for Gem, technically. You can't imagine what the summer months are like.
The day's work done, you move on to your own projects. It doesn't take much but a little listening and light chatting with bored people to learn a bit about the Easterner's movements, the one who's handling the Shrike situation. She has several places she moves between, the better to observe it in flight. You pick one based on it being the closest of any of them, and do a little light casing of the joint. It's a narrow tower, probably once part of a city wall, many years ago, before the city swallowed it completely on both sides. It's got a high vantage point, with no nearby towers of higher height, and... not much else. It looks slightly abandoned.
No one seems to be home, so you leave it for now. There's more investigation to be done.
A murmur arises from the street around you. You glance around. People are looking up. You do the same.
There's a tiny shining point in the sky. It looks much like a star, save it's visible in the daylight, and it's hurtling across the sky swifter than any true celestial body actually can.
It's the Five-Metal Shrike. One of the most powerful, untamed mysteries of the ancient world is soaring above you. No matter how much you try to focus on it, you can resolve next to no details about it from this distance. The Shrike is close, so close, and still utterly untouchable.
Before you tear your attention away, someone barrels into you, basically bouncing off you as something goes all over the ground. "Oh,
damn," a distracted voice says. "Where did you come from? I thought I was sensing all the living here."
The speaker is a woman in a garment of many pockets. Her hair is twisted at points into something that looks like a shrub's thorns, and there's a faint green tint to her skin. She's on her knees, gathering up what she dropped.
You bend down to assist her. What she has is a collection of optical equipment, lenses and tubes and mirrors, thought thankfully it all looks rather hard-wearing, so there's no shattered crystals. You try to hand her a piece or two. "There's no time! Can you carry that for me?" She tosses her hair back as she straightens up. She has a cloth band tied around her forehead, hiding where an Anathema's caste mark might appear. Thoughts click into place behind your eyes, ones you don't let touch your face, just in case, no matter how casually she's treating you.
The Dragons are smiling on you today, it seems. This just about has to be the Despot's Shrike expert, and you are just about as sure that she must be from the Waif. It explains perfectly how she could know a great deal of First Age lore, how she has an interest in the Shrike.. and why she would hide her forehead, where a betraying caste mark could appear.
She rushes off, and you trail behind, a handful of strange devices in your arms. You were seeking an opening for a later action, but unlike before in the arena, this time you
do have a fleeting chance and you simply have to seize it while it exists.
The reason you're so amenable to this is because of where she's leading you: to the tower you were looking at before, the abandoned and lonely place she uses for some of her observations. You shut the heavy door behind the two of you, cutting off the noise from the street. Stairs wind upward into a single room that has balconies open to the air, allowing heat in but also giving a view of the sky. The woman sets down the things she scooped up on a table, then gestures impatiently for you to set the rest there. As you do, she immediately begins assembling things to help her get a better reading on the Shrike's course.
You have an opportunity.
[] Attack her. You may never get a better opportunity.
[] Talk first.
- [] Introduce yourself as a sorcerer, interested in the Shrike.
- [] Bring up the Deathlord's name. See how she reacts.
Top line will be considered first, so it's attack vs talk, and if talk wins, then the sub-vote determines which path from there.
One of these scenes gave me a tremendous amount of trouble and I probably went through a dozen complete or partial drafts. I hope you can't tell which one.
